Falling Sideways
by newtypeofnostalgia
Summary: War, it leaves a crater in the hearts and minds of those who experience it. Though with the war over, it is almost harder to move on than it was to fight in the first place.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Hello darlings, this is the first fic I've posted and I hope you like it. Tell me if I've gotten my facts wrong, I would like to be historically accurate. And now enough of my yacking, enjoy!**

**Hetalia, the characters do not belong to me. Trust me, it's good they don't. **

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><p>Cold as ice metal was pressed firmly to the back of Ludwig's head, an ever-present threat.<p>

"Surrender Beilshmidt!" the American accented voice commanded angrily. Ludwig closed his eyes and steadied himself for the impact of the bullet with his skull,

"Just pull the trigger, it would be best for all of us." He heard a loud sigh from the American,

"Now you and I both kn-" Ludwig cut the man off by pressing himself to the gun,

"Do it, just end it!" Everything he had ever held dear to him had been torn away and he was left as a shell of his former self. His only friends, his bruder, and the trust of his people were all gone. Deep icy blue eyes widened as the gun was suddenly removed,

"Stand up," Alfred's words were full of pity. Ludwig dusted himself off as he stood and turned around to face his captor.

"I don't need your sympathy," his mouth felt desert dry as he attempted to keep his voice steady. Alfred nearly fired the gun in shock as the German grabbed his wrist and once again pressed the weapon to his head, this time on his right temple. Alfred didn't want to let go of the gun for fear that the distressed Ludwig would do something drastic. Both men were soaked in blood and their usually pristine uniforms were undeniably ruined. Panicking, Ludwig tried one final time,

"I deserve a coward's death." Alfred wrenched his arm out of the German's grip and the gun away as far as possible. Seeing what he thought to be his only option thrown away, Ludwig's legs collapsed out from under him and he landed on his knees. A single sob escaped from his lips as his shoulders shook. Holding out a hand, Alfred placed it on his enemy's shoulder,

"You don't have to do this alone." Suddenly, a gunshot split through the silent air and Ludwig crumpled to the ground, the earth around him turning scarlet. Alfred looked around frantically to try to spot the culprit but couldn't see one. He picked the other man up, as blood cascaded from a wound in Ludwig's chest. The green of the other's uniform was slowly turning a murky red as blood blossomed over the fabric.

"Somebody, I need a medic!" Alfred bellowed, running towards a group of soldiers.

….

Thoughts trickled slowly back into Ludwig's head as well as the realization of intense pain that seemed to radiate from his body but especially from his chest. He could hear faint muttering and half garbled snatches of conversation from what seemed like miles away.

"Angleterre, we owe him nothing," the voice insisted, growing louder.

"His family and friends still deserve to know!" a British voice retorted. Ludwig faded out, the voices becoming murmurs.

"We have them here in holding cells, it wouldn't take too much just to…" The trio argued further, Alfred and Arthur actually siding together,

"Alfred, go get them and bring some guards." The world went dark again for a time until he felt something collide with him. His eyes snapped open, a bleached white room coming into focus slowly. Whatever had collided with him was now clinging to him and shaking.

"Feliciano?" Ludwig croaked, his voice rough with disuse.

"Ludwig!" Feliciano looked up, his face tear streaked. Several abrasions and bruises covered the smaller man's face and the skin around one of his deep brown eyes was black and blue.

"Thank goodness you're alive! You look terrible," another voice said. Gilbert stood by the doorway, similarly injured to Feliciano, then Ludwig spotted the guards.

"I feel terrible, where are we?" Ludwig muttered, wincing because his mouth tasted like a horrible mixture of medication and blood.

"The Allies have us at some sort of prison, but beyond that I don't know." Ruby eyes glinted dully with defeat and anger as he stared down at his little brother. Pain exploded from Ludwig's chest as he attempted to sit up and the world around him grew blurry. A hand pushed his shoulder back into the clammy white sheets and Ludwig was surprised to see Feliciano holding him down. A waterfall of tears leaked from the overdramatic man's eyes as he easily pinned down his best friend,

"I shouldn't be able to do that!" he said hysterically between sobs. Cold air bombarded Ludwig's chest, how had he not noticed how cold it was? Looking down, Ludwig noticed that the sheets had slid off, revealing his bandage wrapped chest.

"What happened?" Ludwig's eyes widened, wondering when in the scuffle the American had retrieved his gun. As Feliciano continued to sob, Gilbert explained coldly,

"Some random American soldier, they don't know who, shot you when you were having—umm, diplomatic talks with Jones."

"Times up," a guard said as countless others swarmed around him.

"We haven't been in here for five minutes!" Gilbert protested, but didn't struggle as his hands were tied behind his back. As they were about to put the restraints on Feliciano, the Italian head butted one of the guards in the stomach. The guard doubled over and collapsed onto the tile floor, gasping for breath like a fish out of water. Before the guards could even think of grabbing him, Feliciano hurried to Ludwig's side.

"Feli?" The German whispered as he looked at his friend in shock. Feliciano's face was a mask of fear and rage as he stood next to the bed holding his arms out protectively in front of Ludwig.

"You protected me all those times, I guess it's time I returned the favor," he replied, grinning his sparkling childish grin. Several of the guards hurried forward and tackled Feliciano to the ground,

"He doesn't deserve your sympathy kid!" a guard hissed, punctuating his statement by punching Feliciano hard in the face. He sneered after he delivered several more blows to the auburn haired man. Like ice on a hot day, Feliciano's brace façade melted away and tears of pain and despair cascading down his cheeks. "Quit your bawling you pansy!" another blow was delivered to Feliciano's head. Ludwig winced,

"Leave him alone, it's me you hate!" although his throat was raw he shouted as loudly as he could.

"That may be true you Na-," before the sneering guard could finish his statement, Feliciano actually elbowed the guard in the face. The man's nose made a magnificent crunch and blood sluggishly trickled between his hands which were now clamped around his nose. Silence blanketed the once pristine medical room before it was broken again by Feliciano,

"Don't you dare ever call him that," the usually timid man snarled. Gilbert actually grinned as the pair was led away,

"The kid finally grew a pair," then in a more reserved tone he said, "Rest up bruder, we're all going to need it."

…

Several days had passed since Ludwig had seen either his sibling or his friend. The guards were more cautious when it came with dealing with all of their prisoners since the unexpected rebellion of Feliciano. Rumors traveled like wildfire around Ludwig but actual news traveled slowly. He knew more lies and speculation then he did actual truth. He had asked of course, when doctors had come in to tend to the wound in his chest, but they simply ignored him.

Ludwig was starting to wonder if the Allies planned to keep him in the dark about what events had transpired forever when Alfred F. Jones once again came sauntering back into his life. The man's usually jovial blue eyes had a hard edge to them as he stared down the bedridden ex-soldier,

"How are you holding up?" he asked quietly.

"As well as to be expected I guess. Though, I would be better if I knew what was going on," Ludwig responded coldly. Alfred simply nodded in response, standing in the doorway stiffly. People at the base seemed to treat the German prisoner like a bomb that would go off without warning and Ludwig was tired of it. "I know I don't deserve to know, but I wish to know what happened to my people!" he insisted, his deadened eyes staring the American down.

Alfred let out a world weary sigh, and shut the door behind him. He didn't have permission to share too many details of the end of the war with the prisoner, his higher ups were terrified that the nation still had some sort of power or control over what happened. The once again sterile room was not created for comfort, nor was it created for any form of visitation so there wasn't any provided seating or furniture besides the one bed, currently occupied. Not bothering to ask for permission, Alfred settled down on the edge of the mattress and began to share the small amount of approved information,

"Germany, you- you're people have surrendered. The fighting in Europe has ceased though the war still continues in the Pacific against the remainder of your Axis." He used Ludwig's nation name, a formality that was normally reserved for people from that country or a courtesy by the country's leaders. Ludwig had surmised as much from the nervous mumblings of people who passed by his door, the conversation seeping through the door. Still, there was something else that the Alfred wished to say, though he was waiting to say it. Keeping his eyes on Ludwig's face he continued, "Your leader is dead, he killed himself."

To Alfred's surprised, the German remained impassive. He would have guessed that he would show some sort of regret or sadness at the death of his leader but the man didn't seem to care one way or another. Ludwig simply nodded in response,

"It doesn't surprise me."

"And you are alright with this?" Alfred probed.

"My—leader as you say was a vile man, I held no sentimental attachment to him."

As conversations of that nature traditionally do, it lulled into nothingness. Neither of the men bothered to make eye contact as silence reined the supreme and dominating ruler of their conversation. They may have sat there like that, still and impassive if the hoard of medical personnel hadn't swarmed down on their patent. A tall, stern looking doctor shooed Alfred out the door as they began to change bandages and perform a routine checkup on the prisoner.

The American shifted awkwardly, waiting to be let in so he could ask more questions. Before he could do so, Arthur strode down the hallway with his usual pompous swagger.

"I thought we agreed that we would leave him alone for the time being," he reprimanded. Alfred looked between the door to the room and his surrogate brother quickly.

"I decided it was more important for him to know at least a little about what's going on. He is still human."

Arthur let out a mirthless laugh, "Human? Alfred, you're ability to see the best in people never ceases to amaze me."

"I guess you could say it's my big downfall." Alfred turned on his heels and entered the room again, this time with Arthur breathing down his neck.

"I swear Alfred, if you compromise our plan by doing something stupid so help me…" Arthur stopped midsentence as they both noticed at once that the German appeared to be sleeping. Quietly, they both exited the room and closed the door softly. They continued to argue as they continued down the hallway, receiving a few scathing glares and getting shushed by quite a few nurses. Arthur stormed off down the hall, leaving Alfred to be glared at by the medical staff. The nation pulled the tall stern looking doctor aside, the man's eyes flashing with annoyance. Once they were far enough away from the group as to not be overheard, Alfred asked urgently,

"So how is he?"

"He is doing as well as can be expected after being shot in the chest. The bullet narrowly missed his heart, but I do believe he will make a full recovery. The patient is recovering at a fast rate and should be able to be moved any day now. I want him out of my care and away from my staff!"

Alfred sighed heavily, and shook his head, there was no use trying to defend the German to these people. He still hadn't forgiven Ludwig himself, though he didn't deserve to be treated as he had been. Even Gilbert seemed angry at Ludwig, though that could simply be the byproduct of being imprisoned. Though, it was less like having a prisoner, and more like having an extremely annoying house guest who couldn't go away. Within a few days, guards were paying their friends to take their shifts so they could avoid dealing with the mouthy nation.

Feliciano hadn't dealt well with his captivity, the man's sensitive nature lead to ridicule at the hands of the guards and soldiers stationed at the base. He refused to eat any of the food brought to him and eventually had to be forced to eat. While Gilbert remained resilient and annoying, Feliciano seemed to be wilting day by day. The pair hadn't been allowed back to the hospital portion to visit after the fiasco that was their previous visit. The guards complained that late at night, Feliciano could be heard sobbing and wailing. He just wasn't sure what to do anymore, his morals and his duties clashing and for someone he had hated so much not too long ago.

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><p><strong>AN: So what did ye think? Should I continue this or shall I kill it with fire? This was written spur of the moment and I don't really have an ending in mind per say...Reviews and constructive criticism are desired and tell me if I've said something stupid. <strong>


	2. Chapter 2

Feliciano paced around the inside of his cell, both his body and mind contracting a sudden inability to stay still. The normally chipper young man's continence had changed significantly since his surrender which had occurred a while before Ludwig was brought in. Captivity didn't suit the Italian, who would much rather be anywhere in the whole wide universe then in the cell. Heck, he would even have enjoyed training over this, he would go willingly if it meant he didn't have to stare at the same grey colorless walls and bars with nothing to interrupt his dismal view. His entire world had taken on a grey color, days and nights running together to become one single soulless entity. Worst of all, he was cut off completely from both his fratello and best friend.

Sometimes, and he hated admitting it to himself, but sometimes Feliciano absolutely hated Ludwig for the hand he had in the war. These moments would pass quickly however, replacing themselves with twinges of pity or even upon occasion, self-hatred. He could have said something, they could have…No. He may have been an airhead, but he wasn't stupid. Willing or not, controlled or not, there was nothing he could have personally done to stop something. Maybe Italy could, but Feliciano Vargas felt powerless to do even the smallest of tasks. A faint smile crossed his lips as he could hear Ludwig's powerful and deep voice in his head berating him for being unable to tie his own shoelaces. As reality settled in again, tears pricked at the back of his eyes.

No. No more crying, he absolutely refused! Crying wouldn't help anyone or anything, and it definitely wouldn't put things right. Showing emotions never helped him through anything, and it usually got him yelled at but it was just so hard not to. After almost an hour of pacing his legs seemed to decide that being legs was too difficult a task and he sat down on his shapeless cot mattress. He squealed as a spider skittered across his feet. Stopping, Feliciano watched the creature climb up the post of the bed, making a web between the post and the wall.

"Hello Mr. Spider!" Feliciano smiled, watching the small creature hard at work. Thread over thread over thread, making something so much stronger than one…than one could even hope to do on its own. One? How about three? What could that number do, what sort of impact could that make? But then again, everyone knew. They knew all too well in fact. The spider kept going, maintaining his hypnotic dance, mesmerizing the brunette. "You look lonely. Are you lonely?" He gently prodded a section of the web, sending the small creature into a frenzied retreat from the marauding fingertip. Giggling at the simple action, he lay back closing his eyes for a greatly needed sleep.

If not for sleep, the Italian would have gone mad long ago because with sleep came forgetfulness. Dreams of long ago times and of a similar and yet oh-so different blond would fill his mind, a blond that the light of the present had shoved aside in favor of focus on the present world-wide crisis, leaving him so far behind. That time though his mind was blank, his body trying to catch up to the stress that he had put himself under through a pure and dark blanket of slumber.

What seemed like an eternity later, his eyes unglued themselves. The hallway outside the cell was far too loud for his taste. Feliciano rolled over, putting his hands over his ears wanting nothing more than to just return to sleep! Not too far from where he lay, the guards argued loudly with one another,

"No way no how! I swear, the guy's going absolutely insane in there!" As if he hadn't made his point, he continued to say in different terms how he doubted Feliciano's sanity.

"Nah!" Another voice retorted, higher pitched and whinier then the first voice, "You gotta understand that this guy's had a couple of screws loose for quite a while."

Feliciano squeezed his eyes shut, willing the conversation to stop. Sometimes, the English or otherwise speaking human guards didn't consider that he could in fact understand them. Speaking in a perfect but very sleepy English, Feliciano decided to have a little fun with the guards.

"Excuse me sirs, my spider friend and I are trying to sleep. Could you keep it quieter out there?" He threw in an extra giggle for good measure, a genuine smile slipping across his face as the men fell into a stunned silence. As Ludwig had often admonished, silence would not in fact, harm Feliciano in any way. As the deadly quiet filled the space around him, Feliciano fell back into a shallow and restless half sleep.

No more than thirty minutes later, there was more overly loud conversation coming from the outside of the room, couldn't these people just keep quiet for one measly second! Stopping, Feliciano realized that this thinking was not very characteristic of his usually easy going self, and more of—of Ludwig. The normal and whiny voiced guards were arguing with someone quite loudly, the third voice quiet and muffled, but sounding slightly melodic and flowing as the person, obviously male, was apparently berating the guards.

"Are you ignoring a direct order?" As the voice grew louder, he recognized it. Big brother France! But what was he doing down here! It had been quite a long time since they had met aside from brief glimpses on the field of battle where conversational pleasantries were few and far between. Burying his head in the lumpy mattress, Feliciano feigned sleep. A quick clatter clack of keys and the squeal of unoiled hinges was enough of an announcement that Feliciano had a visitor. A weight perched on the side of the cot as a strong hand was placed gently on his shoulder. He could feel the cold from the hand through his thin shirt, making him almost give himself away by shivering.

"I know you're not asleep Feliciano."

The brunette sat up quickly, his deep brown eyes meeting Francis's blue ones. He was puzzled; he thought he was doing a pretty good job at being asleep, apparently not. Rubbing his eyes, he blinked in confusion at the other man.

"Why are you here?"

Francis gave a small smile in response, "What sort of a big brother would I be if I didn't come and see you at least once?"

Grinning, Feliciano gratefully wrapped his arms around the other nation. He hesitated, pulling away quickly when he saw that the other man's arm which was heavily bandaged and held close and immobile to his chest. Panic and dread filled the Italian as he knew the cause of the injury, knew, but hated to think about or say aloud. He settled for asking,

"Did…How…?" Stumbling for the right words to say, he used a few choice Romano words in his head, berating himself for once again being unable to do much of anything correct. Things hadn't changed much.

The other nation's face contorted into a wince, at the question as he knew all too well what the younger man was attempting to ask. "Yes. It was your dear Ludwig who did this." Holding his breath, all he could do was nod. Conversation would betray the large lump forming in his throat. Francis's free hand was on Feliciano's shoulder in a millisecond, "Do not trouble yourself, I will heal. You played no part in it." Still, a subtle anger burned in Francis's normally jovial light blue eyes. The anger may not have been aimed towards him, but it still made Feliciano feel a pang of guilt for something he hadn't even known had happened. "Zat is what happens when an animal is wounded and forced into a corner. Ze people standing in ze way get hurt."

"Does it hurt?" tentatively, he stretched out a hand to lightly brush the bandaged limb.

"No. Not now anyways. I'm lucky, if I were not a nation, it would never have healed well. It was damn near crushed." Blond curls bounced around the other nation's face as he shook his head, "Sorry. I shouldn't have said—"

"No not really," Feliciano actually deadpanned, lying down again sullenly. The tears threatened to come again, stinging against his closed eyes. They seemed to beg for release and he was finally ready to oblige them. He curled up, letting them slide down his face, sniffling pathetically as his nose began to run. "I-I…"

"Shhh…" Feliciano let out a squeak as he was pulled into a firm one arm hug. "You need not worry about a thing right now. I didn't come here to cause stress to you and I am sorry."

"You should hate me!" the mumbled reply came from where his face was pressed into the blue fabric of the other man's military uniform. He clung onto the other man, needing a physical presence to keep him from completely falling apart.

"Non." Came the stern reply, "Hate is what got us into this mess in the first place. There is a difference between hate and what I feel. We all have our hand to play in this tragedy; no one person can take all the blame." Feliciano emerged from the embrace, wiping his eyes on his arm. He gave a nod of thanks before giving an affectionate hug of the sort only enthusiastic Italians could truly give.

"Thank you!" He gave a relieved laugh, "Thank you so much. Can you do one thing for me?"

"And what would that be?"

"Please, could you tell me how Ludwig is?" Watching Francis's face for any sort of reaction, Feliciano waited with baited breath. He was slightly horrified at the reaction he got, a smile. "Is he alright! Please can you tell me?"

The smile remained on the other man's face, "Of course that would be where your mind is right now. Things never change…" Shaking himself out of his dreamy daze, Francis continued, "He will make a full recovery, his _health_ will improve." Everything having to do with the Germanic nation made Feliciano so nervous lately that the strange emphasis that the Frenchman put on health made him wary, it made him shudder.

"And besides that? How is he taking things?" The world went sort of numb as he waited for the answer.

"I'm unsure mon ami. He hadn't said much of anything at all; he doesn't really show any emotion or reaction to anything, mostly just stares blankly into space." Feliciano watched the other man actually shudder, "His eyes, I've never seen such defeat, such…"

"I see." Feliciano cast his eyes downwards, scuffing the floor with one grey ill-fitting shoe. "Can I see him?" The only response he received was an unreadable shrug and a soft sigh, filled with exhaustion and exasperation.

…..

One could say that Alfred F. Jones was kind of ticked off, kind of testy, kind of on edge. That person would be very wrong. Alfred fumed silently and uncharacteristically as Ivan stood at the head of the meeting table, his arms full of papers and his words full of plans of personal grandeur. He had been listening to the constant prattle for quite some time and he was getting sick of it. He just wanted to blow up, to throw caution to the wind and rage. He couldn't stand the Russian at the best of times but at least then he was able to hide it!

"Listen Ivan, we don't have to make a decision right this second. Ludwig does not at all need observing, he isn't going anywhere anytime soon!" Arthur interjected, interrupting a long winded explanation that only made the remaining people in the room testy.

"Do you have a better plan?" Ivan smiled at the group, eyeing them as if they were pieces of meat. "My friends, do you plan to start another Treaty of Versailles? That worked so well the last time. Are you going to have him pay back the war debt to keep him down?"

"That isn't what this is about right now Ivan. This meeting was about if we should move him down to the cells or keep him in the hospital and if he should be able to visit more with his friends." Francis stood behind Arthur, backing him.

Ivan walked up to the Frenchman, taking his uniform collar in his large powerful hands. "Why the protest? Shouldn't we decide this sooner rather than later?"

Alfred was about to stand up and put space between the two men when a green blur came out of seemingly nowhere, smacking into Ivan and knocking him over. "Keep your hands off of him you bloody git!" Finally, intervening sounded like a very good idea. While Arthur was definitely spirited, Ivan had size and strength on his side. Pulling the pair apart, he held back the irate Brit, keeping him from trying to exact his revenge.

"Let me go Alfred!" Man could he struggle for being smaller then Alfred… "Let me go! I'm going to wipe that smug grin off his face!"

Everyone was in awe at the unexpected reaction, "Mon ami, I am fine." Within a few seconds, Francis was helping keep Arthur back with his good arm. "He did no damage, I'm not delicate."

All the fight seemed to go out of Arthur, his face contorting from a mask of rage to one of exhaustion and slight embarrassment. "I-I just got sick of him talking is all. Don't take it personal frog!"

"Of course." Though Alfred caught a smile cross the Frenchman's face as the man walked out of the room briskly, his head held high. "Of course Angleterre. Why on earth would you worry about little old me?"

Silence filled the room, as Ivan also left muttering under his breath with the same eerie smile masked on his face. "I don't see how you can show them any sort of sympathy America, you interest me. After all those who died on both sides, I don't understand you."

"From what I've understood from the doctors, he wouldn't be injured more if we moved him but it would be best for his interest if we didn't. I also don't think it would be a bad thing to allow another controlled visit. I doubt the frog would have much of a problem actually."

"Hey Artie?"

"Yes Alfred? Please refrain from your little…nick names please."

"Yeah…whatever. Umm, are you doing okay?" He had been watching his foster brother closely lately to watch for any sort of reactions, positive or negative to the German's presence. Alfred could not in good conscience argue anything either way to the Brit after all that had happened to him. "You feeling alright after…ya know…"

"The blitz?" Sinking into a chair tiredly, the pair locked eyes, green on blue. "I'm alive; we're hanging in there for the most part. So many dead though, I can't say it doesn't hurt. I can't say I'm not mad as hell and that I don't want him to pay for the lives of my people. At the same time, I can't say I don't feel some sympathy for him. War is…complicated."

"As an understatement?"

"Yes, as an understatement."

Alfred moved forward, bringing the nation into a crushing hug. "Hey, we'll get outta this. Hang in there okay?"

"Don't worry Al, I plan to." Alfred turned, preparing to leave the room. "Alfred?"

"Yeah Iggy?"

An exasperated sigh emanated from where the Brit was sitting, "Thank you. Thank you for…for being a great…" He couldn't finish it, apparently though Alfred knew what was intended to have been said.

"Yeah, same to you. I've got a pretty awesome grumpy older brother."


End file.
